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Page 343
demand a different form of combat to settle the question. He was too numb, however, to argue. Peering glassily through the eyeslits of his helmet, Ian tried to find Owain with a new lance. The squire was nowhere near. Ian wondered if he was so dazed that he had mistaken his position. He swung his head right, then left. No Owain, but his vision and hearing were clearing well now. He saw Sir Thomas at the far end of the field, arguing vociferously with Pembroke while two other knights were in position at the ends of the lists.
Knowing his face was hidden by his helmet, Ian closed his eyes and uttered a short prayer of thanksgiving for his faithful friends. Pembroke must have known he was badly shaken. Doubtless he had raised some technical point of honor that prevented an immediate challenge and then said that the tourney should continue while it was settled.
"Lord?"
It was Geoffrey's voice, just a trifle too loud and assertive. Ian hoped he did not look as pallid as he felt, but he had to breathe air unfouled by his own gasping. He lifted off his helmet and looked down. Geoffrey was holding up a bowl of wine, his hand shaking just a little.
"Are you well, lord?"
"I am glad of a chance to catch my breath," Ian replied. "My thanks for the thought," he added, taking the wine from Geoffrey. He drank, shuddered. ''Child, it is not watered," he exclaimed, then laughed shakily. "I am not so faint as to need that. Go bring me another, but more water than wine. I am athirst, but I do not want to add my drunkenness to my opponents' abilities."
When Geoffrey returned, Ian drank more slowly. "Where is Owain?" he asked when the bowl was empty.
Anger made Geoffrey's eyes lighten to a flashing gold. "He is going over every lance inch by inch with Jamie to help him. He was like to die of rage when

 
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